‘What makes you think we need that kind of publicity?’
‘We don’t, but it’ll be fun.’
Fun? Hmm…She hadn’t experienced a lot of that lately. Although when she’d called Merrill back, the conversation had been pretty damn good. Before she could say a word, Merrill had started raving about the dailies. ‘I showed them to people here,’ he said. ‘They love you, they love your work. We got plenty of backers, Kitten. When do I get your next script?’
She’d given no thought to what she planned to do next. Maybe take some time off and go island-hopping, read some books, generally veg out.
‘I’ll get back to you, Merrill,’ she’d said.
‘Do that, Kitten. It’s you and me all the way.’
It was nice to know that somebody was waiting for her next project, although she was wise enough to realize that if Caught failed horribly at the box office, she’d be yesterday’s news.
‘What’re you thinking?’ Nick asked, still waiting for her answer.
‘I hate that question. Like I’m going to tell you what I’ thinking.’
‘Why not?’
‘Okay, I’m thinking you’re an asshole–does that satisfy you?’
‘Y’know, there’s something about you,’ he said, grinning. ‘You’re kinda like old and young at the same time. It’s the sexy bod and the old mouth.’
‘Old mouth?’ she said, frowning again.
‘Y’know what I mean.’ He chain-lit another cigarette. ‘So–you comin’ to my flick?’
‘Why are you always asking me to go places when you have a million babes who would happily go with you at the drop of their knickers?’
‘Knickers!’ he exclaimed, laughing. ‘That’s a nice old English word. Didn’t know you were English.’
‘I lived there for a while.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know much about you, do I?’
‘I don’t know much about you either, and I’m not sure I want to, so don’t sweat it.’
‘You coming with me or not?’
‘What’s the movie?’
‘Trucker. Big-time action, you’ll get off on it.’
She sighed. ‘I dunno…’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ he snapped. ‘Stop givin’ me this I’m-not-sure crap.’
‘Okay,’ she said, making a snap decision. ‘Your charm has convinced me. Only no hands on.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I’m not one of your conquests. I’ll go with you ’cause you’re right–it’ll be great publicity for our movie.’
‘Jeez!’ he grumbled. ‘You sure as shit don’t make it easy.’
‘What time?’
‘I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something sexy.’
‘Shove it up your—’
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, holding up his hand. ‘I get it. Wear whatever you want. See ya later.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
‘I got somethin’ to tell you that’ll shock the shit outta you,’ Freddy Krane announced. He was back in town and visiting the set.
‘What’s that?’ Linc asked, high on coke and feeling no pain, even though he was in the middle of working.
‘Lola Sanchez,’ Freddy said, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. ‘A coupla nights ago I was havin’ phone sex with that model broad, Allegra. So I’m pullin’ the old pod, an’ all of a sudden, whammo! I realize I’m sittin’ in the same bed you fucked Lola in.’
‘I didn’t fuck her,’ Linc said, frowning.
‘Sure you did. Only you’ve forgotten about it.’
‘I have?’
‘She’s changed, but Freddy never forgets a face, so I did some checking.’
‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Keep listenin’. A few years ago at one of my parties I hired a Latino DJ who’d been recommended. He brought his girlfriend with him.’
‘So?’ Linc said, not even vaguely interested in Freddy’s ramblings.
‘She was a hot-lookin’ piece, turnin’ on the sexy dancin’ for us. So I sent one of my girls to bring her over.’
‘You did, huh?’
‘Over she comes, this hot little Latina chick, an’ that’s the last I saw of her, ’cause you took her inside an’ spent the night with her in my bed. I couldn’t even sleep in my own freakin’ bed! So in the mornin’ when I come in, you’re gone and she’s still there, naked as a Playboy spread, an’ sexy as all-get-out.’
‘Who are you talking about?’
‘Lola Sanchez, schmuck! Course, her name wasn’t Lola then, but it was her. I had one of my assistants track down the DJ from that night. The dude’s now producing records in L.A. I spoke to him personally–asked him if he played a gig at one of my parties, and was the girl with him Lola? He told me yes.’
‘I’m still not getting you,’ Linc said.
Freddy shook his head in disgust. ‘What are you–stoned?’
‘Who understands what the fuck this story is about?’
‘You were screwing Lola Sanchez, only that wasn’t her name then. She was just some sexy Chicana chick tryin’ to get herself noticed. You nailed her in my bed, spent the night with her, then passed her on to me. Unfortunately she didn’t want anythin’ to do with me. End of story. Now, six years later, here we are.’
‘Holy shit!’ Linc said, finally getting it. ‘You sure?’
‘Course I am,’ Freddy agreed, chuckling. ‘I got a memory like a freakin’ elephant–’specially when it comes to women. If I’ve seen ’em naked, you can bet I’m gonna remember ’em.’
‘But you didn’t see her naked. According to you it was me who spent the night with her.’
‘Why d’you think she hasn’t mentioned it to you?’
‘Maybe she’s embarrassed.’
‘She’s pissed at you, man. You screwed her all night, then dumped her. Bet you never even called her, did you?’
Linc shrugged. ‘Who remembers?’
‘You shoulda called, sent a flower or somethin’. I would’ve, only she didn’t want me, she wanted you, the big movie star. Marched outta my house all bent outta shape.’
‘You think it was Lola?’
‘I know it was.’
‘What should I do?’
‘Get her into bed again, then tell her you remember while you’re screwin’ her. That’ll give her the come of the century.’
‘Anybody ever mentioned you’re a dirty old man?’
‘No shit?’ Freddy said, yawning. ‘Where’s Shelby?’
‘In L.A.’
‘Wasn’t she supposed to be here?’
‘She flew in for a day, then she had to get back.’
‘Something goin’ on with you two?’
‘Nothing I want your big mouth to know about.’
‘Okay, dinner tonight with Allegra. An’ this time–the three of us–let’s get a party goin’. Why waste a sure thing?’
Lola was nervous about returning to the set. Her mind was elsewhere, certainly not on emoting in front of the camera in a sexy dress, flirting with Linc Blackwood and making it work for the romantic comedy they were shooting.
She was well aware that she had to get back to work, because if she didn’t it was career suicide. Elliott Finerman had been helpful until now, but he would not continue to be so understanding. They’d already shot half the movie, so she had no choice.
She sent Jenny out to purchase extra cellphones, enabling each of them to have a direct line to the hospital in L.A.
‘You must check in every hour,’ she instructed Jenny. ‘I have to know what’s going on.’
Tony kept calling. She refused to accept his calls. In one of her prayer sessions she’d made a pact with God: if she was good, God would save Selma and bring her out of her coma.
Being good meant not seeing Tony. Tony unleashed her wild side, and it was because of her reconnection with him that a tragedy had taken place.
Matt phoned to offer his sym
pathies. She was touched to hear from him. The once boring Matt now seemed like a nice, caring person and, even more important, Selma liked him.
‘Lola, are you okay?’ he kept on asking her.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
‘Can I come to New York?’
‘You know,’ she said, thinking that as she was still married to Matt he should be by her side, ‘that might be nice.’
‘I’ll hop on a plane today.’
Now what was she to do about Linc Blackwood? She’d probably broken up his marriage with their photos all over the front pages, and maybe that was punishment enough. Revenge was not something that went hand in hand with religion and prayers.
She struck another bargain with God. If He made Selma better, she would forgive Linc Blackwood for the past and not pursue revenge against him.
Matt must have jumped on the next plane, because before she knew it he was there. Tall, white-bread and boring, he’d shaved off his stupid goatee and was thrilled to be back by her side.
She clung to him because she had to cling to someone, and in her mind Tony Alvarez was now the enemy. Matt was one happy man. He had his wife back, and that was all he cared about.
‘Can we at least celebrate your success?’ Pete asked.
Shelby’s cheeks were flushed. She felt that she’d conquered a fear, considering she’d always been slightly scared of driving. In fact, she’d only learned to drive when she’d first moved to L.A.
Now she was actually doing car stunts in a movie. It was quite an achievement.
‘I–I don’t know,’ she said, not sure she should encourage him.
‘Look,’ Pete said. ‘I know things aren’t going well with Linc.’
‘Where did you hear that?’ she asked quickly.
‘It’s all over the tabloids, Shelby.’
‘That’s why I can’t be seen with you,’ she said. ‘If we were photographed together it would only make things worse.’
‘You could come to my house,’ he suggested. ‘There’s no photographers hanging out there.’
‘And what if they caught me coming out of your house? That would look terrible.’
‘It’s not as if we’re doing anything, Shelby,’ he said patiently.
‘I know that.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘we should celebrate. However, if you feel it’s inappropriate, tell me, and I’ll stop bugging you.’
Linc hadn’t phoned, and she did not relish the thought of sitting in her big mansion by herself for one more night. She was lonely in America, with no family and hardly any friends.
Oh, yes, plenty of people were calling to congratulate her on the enormous success of her performance in Rapture, but there wasn’t anyone she was close to. Cat was the only person she’d developed any kind of relationship with.
And here was Pete. Good solid Pete. And he wanted her to come to his house, and she wanted to go.
‘Okay,’ she said finally. ‘Your house it is.’
‘There’ll be nobody around,’ he promised, ‘and I’ll barbecue for you–how’s that? Remember how you always loved my burgers?’
‘Do I! They were delicious.’
‘You used to wolf down two if I remember rightly.’
She smiled at the memories. They’d spent one glorious summer together and had a very good time, although they’d never consummated their relationship. ‘We can go right from the set,’ he said.
‘It’s not a good idea for people to see us leaving together.’
‘You know where my house is, drive yourself over. I’ll be waiting.’
‘I think that’s best.’
‘Whatever you want, Shelby.’
‘Pete,’ she asked curiously, ‘do you have a girlfriend?’
‘Why?’
‘I, uh…thought if you did, she might like to join us.’
‘Am I making you nervous, Shelby?’ he said, giving her a penetrating look. ‘’Cause that’s not my intention.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m simply a little confused right now.’
‘The truth is I have several girlfriends, but I’m not asking any of them to join us. It’s dinner alone together, for old times’ sake. How’s that?’
‘Sounds nice.’
‘Do you need to go home first? Or will you come straight from the studio?’
‘I don’t have to change clothes or anything. After all, it’s not as if this is a date.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving in ten minutes, so I’ll see you when you get there. Drive carefully, Shelby. Me and the dogs’ll be waiting.’
‘Wear something sexy,’ Nick had said.
Oh, yeah, sure, like she was about to dress up for him. Ha! Was he going to wear something sexy for her?
What did he consider sexy anyway? She had on the tightest jeans known to man and a cut-off Abercrombie & Fitch island T-shirt that exposed her midriff and pierced navel. Wasn’t that sexy?
Her stuff had recently arrived from New York, and there were boxes piled all over her apartment. She riffled through some of her clothes, searching for a suitable outfit for the première.
Look at you, she thought. Getting all excited about a date with a womanizing little prick. Or big prick.
Yeah, she giggled. He has the big-prick cocky attitude.
What was it about men? Why did they always have to tie you up in knots? It wasn’t as if she even liked him.
Well…maybe a tad.
She finally settled on an off-the-shoulder white ruffled blouse and skin-tight black leather pants. Then she added lots of silver gypsy jewellery she’d inherited from her grandmother.
She ran her hands through her short blonde hair, spiking it up even more, and added plenty of kohl around her eyes, giving her the fashionable heroin-chic look. A touch of lip gloss and she was ready.
Why am I doing this? she thought.
Because I want to, that’s why.
The downstairs buzzer started ringing, making it too late to back out now. Two minutes later Nick slouched his way into her apartment.
‘I thought we had to leave,’ she said.
‘Tidy, aren’t you?’ he said, regarding the half-unpacked boxes littered all over the floor.
‘I’m trying to find the time to unpack properly,’ she answered. ‘Why? Are you doing a photo shoot for Architectural Digest?’
‘S’matter of fact—’
‘Shut up.’
‘Cool apartment,’ he said, checking out her CD collection. ‘I’m stuck in a friggin’ hotel. I gotta get myself a place out here.’
‘Do you have a home anywhere?’
‘I kinda live like a gypsy. Friends’ floors, that kinda deal.’
‘You’re a movie star,’ she pointed out. ‘A house is a good investment.’
‘Does that mean you’ll help me look?’
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Wives and fiancées are the people who help guys look for houses. Not the director of your movie, who happens to be doing you a huge favour by accompanying you to your première.’
‘God, you’re a hard nut,’ he complained. ‘Your husband must’ve treated you real bad.’
‘It’s not important,’ she said.
‘Anyway,’ he said, checking her out with an appraising eye, ‘you look pretty hot.’
‘Oh,’ she said, slightly flustered. ‘Thanks.’
‘How about me?’
She gave him an exaggerated once-over. ‘Hmm…let me see. A comb wouldn’t be a bad idea.’
‘Can’t let the fans down,’ he said, mocking himself. ‘This is how they like me.’
‘They do?’
‘You should see some of the letters I get–naked pictures, offers of anything I want. It’s a wild trip. Come to my trailer one day and read my fan mail.’
‘What a great idea,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I’ve got nothing else to do with my time.’
‘Got any joints lying around?’
‘No, I gave up recreational drugs.’
&
nbsp; ‘Gave ’em up?’ he said, shocked. ‘Why would you give up weed?’
‘I told you,’ she said patiently. ‘I used to be a druggie. Now I don’t do anything. It’s better for me not to be tempted.’
‘Fuckin’ boring. C’mon, Blondie, let’s hit the road.’
Chapter Thirty-Four
Allegra, the tall, skinny model with the strong Australian accent, was quite happy to see Linc again. Are you getting a divorce?’ was her first question.
‘No,’ he responded sharply.
‘The Enquirer says you are.’
‘Believe the Enquirer,’ he said shortly. ‘Don’t believe me.’
Why had he said he would come out with her and Freddy again? He couldn’t take the accent, although Freddy had assured him she was a wild-cat in bed.
Allegra preened like an exotic bird. ‘I’ll be on the cover of the next Sports Illustrated,’ she boasted. ‘Do you know what an honour that is? Of course,’ she added, in case they didn’t know, ‘I’ve been on the cover twice before.’
‘Sure, honey,’ Freddy said, groping her almost non-existent ass.
Lola was due back on the set tomorrow. Linc had been racking his brains trying to remember more about the night he’d apparently spent with her in Freddy’s bed. Before Shelby, there had been so many one-night stands–at least three women a week. Fortunately or unfortunately, they were all a blur and no way could he single out Lola.
Freddy was in rare form. First they went to a Russian restaurant, where they feasted on borscht and blinis with caviar, washed down with several shots of Russian vodka. Then they dropped into Elaine’s for drinks, where Freddy proceeded to regale Elaine with outrageous stories about his last movie–an action adventure shot in Cambodia and, according to Freddy, starring the asshole of action-adventure heroes. ‘This jerk was such a hero,’ Freddy revealed, ‘that he used to stiff all the hookers after he’d fucked ’em.’
Elaine gave Linc a look as much as to say, ‘Can you shut him up, or should I?’
After dinner Allegra wanted to make the rounds of her favourite clubs.
‘Didn’t we do that last week?’ Linc asked.
‘So we’ll do it again,’ Freddy said.
Yeah, Linc thought. Why am I hanging back? I’ve got a wife who’s screwing some fucking stuntman in L.A. and I’m in New York like a schmuck, not even getting laid.